


One Quotable Phrase

by ShowMeAHero



Category: Marvel, X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Paralysis, Post-X-Men: Days of Future Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles had felt pain before, of course he had. Between his stepfather, and his stepbrother, and the stupid fights he had been getting into his whole life, of course he has felt pain before. But none of that pain was equal to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Quotable Phrase

**Author's Note:**

> [Lauryn](http://ahwuhoo.tumblr.com/) dared me. 
> 
> I was inspired by [this post](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/post/93549037701/spank-that-cass-redvinesgiraffe).
> 
> Title taken from ["Landlocked Blues"](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/brighteyes/landlockedblues.html), by [Bright Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqlsVypKIu8). If you know the song, you know that's probably not a good thing.

Charles had felt pain before, of course he had. Between his stepfather, and his stepbrother, and the stupid fights he had been getting into his whole life, of _course_ he has felt pain before. But none of that pain was equal to _this_. This pain, which flared throughout his entire body from that one origin point in the base of his spine, was literally unbearable to him. He struggled to move, struggled to keep control over his abilities, struggled to hold himself together, struggled not to scream.

Everything was almost eerily silent to him after that bullet entered his body. As he was scrambling to his feet in the sand, he felt Moira’s intentions in her mind to shoot Erik, and he saw Erik deflecting bullet after bullet into the sand around them. He did not see the one that hit him, though. It was as though the world around him stopped, ceased to exist, and everything was a haze of pain and nothingness, nothing except that bullet and the _pain_ , dear God, it was _everything_. He could feel Moira’s shock, Raven’s stunned pain, the boys’ anger and surprise.

He attempted to keep his arms and legs under him when he fell, but everything seemed to be happening at once, and he fell anyways, face-first into the sand. He tried to turn himself, tried to stand again, but Erik’s hands were on him before he knew it. Erik turned him over for him, removed the bullet from his spine for him, and, suddenly, the pain was gone. Charles could vaguely hear the bombs exploding in the air, and Erik was pulling Charles into his lap, and all Charles could see was Erik’s face, and he could feel nothing. He could twitch his fingers, but everything - everything from the waist-down, from the wound down - was gone. Everything was gone.

Charles heard Erik shouting, heard him blaming Moira, and he was trying to steady himself enough to gather his breath, enough to stop Erik, to tell him to stop this madness, just long enough, just enough, just-

Charles awoke, gasping for breath, bolting straight up in bed. When he finally got enough control over himself to realize it had just been a dream, a memory leaking into his subconscious while he slept, he took a deep breath and collapsed against the bed, sweat matting his hair to his head and dampening his pillow. The door to his bedroom burst open then, Erik tearing in in his pajama bottoms, looking shell-shocked, and Charles startled back up to a sitting position.

“What the hell was that?” Erik demanded, his chest heaving, and Charles blinked at him in the darkness.

“What the hell was what?” Charles asked. He glanced out the window, then did a quick mental scan of all the minds in the mansion. “Is someone here? Is everyone okay? Did you hear some-”

“No, Charles,” Erik interrupted, slamming the door behind him. Charles flinched. “I mean what was _that_. In my _head_.”

Charles blanched instantly, all the color leaching from his face. His grip on the blanket tightened, his knuckles going white.

“Erik, I’m so sorry,” Charles apologized immediately. He pulled his blankets away and used his upper body strength to leverage himself into the wheelchair beside his bed. “It was a very vivid dream, I’m afraid those leak through every now and then, and I can assure you-”

“Was it real?” Erik asked, cutting Charles off. Charles frowned at him for a second before he shut his eyes and swallowed, glancing away. Erik stormed forwards, grabbing Charles’ wrists and wrapping his hands around them and the arms of the wheelchair, forcing Charles to look up at him. “Answer me.”

“I don’t owe you an answer, Erik,” Charles spat, ripping his hands free. Erik scowled at him, standing up straight, towering over Charles.

“You do, actually,” Erik countered, and Charles grit his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose, his anger rising.

“Actually, Erik Lehnsherr, I don’t owe you a damn thing,” Charles snapped, feeling his rage boiling just underneath his skin. “You want to know if that was real? It was. _Fuck_ , Erik. Just… _fuck_ , it’s a memory, and I never told you, I didn’t want you to know, but it’s _your_ fault.”

Erik sat down heavily on the edge of Charles’ bed, his eyes darting back and forth, scanning Charles’ face. Finally, he said, “I knew it was my fault.”

“I could have forgiven you for the bullet,” Charles hissed. “I could have. You didn’t mean it. You didn’t know. I understand that.” Charles looked away, then steeled himself, turning back to look directly into Erik’s eyes. “But I could still feel my legs, Erik. I would have been okay.”

“Until I moved you,” Erik finished for him, his eyes falling down. Charles took a shuddering breath and sat back in his wheelchair, his sweaty skin sticking to the back of it.

“Yes, until you moved me,” Charles agreed. He ran a hand through his hair roughly, then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He exhaled. “Fuck it, Erik. I shouldn’t’ve-”

“You should’ve,” Erik interrupted, examining his own hands as though they were new and fascinating. “You should’ve told me.”

“What good would that have done?” Charles demanded. “Hm? What good could have come from me telling you that?”

“I would’ve known,” Erik replied sharply.

“And what would you have done with that knowledge?” Charles asked. “Because I truly believe, Erik, that nothing could have stopped you from leaving me on that beach.”

Erik fell silent, and Charles wheeled himself forward until they were centimeters from touching. When Charles’ legs came into view, Erik finally looked up at his face, and Charles could see the way his eyes glistened and shone slightly, and he was bitterly satisfied.

“Why did you come get me?” Erik asked quietly. “Why did you break me out? Why did you let me go, after everything? Why did you let me come back home? _Why?_ ”

“Because I love you, you bastard!” Charles blurted angrily. Erik stared at him, unblinking, and Charles let out a growl of frustration and moved to wheel backwards. Erik absently lifted a hand, and Charles’ wheelchair got stuck in place. Charles stared down at the back of his hand. “Erik, release me.”

“No,” Erik answered simply before leaning forwards. “Say that again.”

“No,” Charles parroted. “No, Erik. I can’t do this with you.”

“Why not?” Erik questioned. “What’s so wrong with-”

“Because you paralyzed me,” Charles snarled. “Because, you bastard, you betrayed me, and you abandoned me, and you made me love you all over again, and then you abandoned me _again_ , and then you left _again_ , and then you came back, and I can’t stop loving you, no matter how awful you are.” Charles shook his head and dropped his eyes. “I can’t.”

“ _You_ abandoned _me_ ,” Erik insisted, and Charles’ angry gaze shot back up to Erik’s face.

“You stop saying that to me,” Charles ordered desperately. “You don’t get to say that to me. You’ve destroyed me, over and over. You don’t get to say that I abandoned you when I just wanted to do what’s right. I started the school twice over. I tried to make something of myself, and I tried to move on, and I can’t stop loving you long enough to do it.”

Erik blinked at him, then reached out to touch Charles’ wrists again. Charles jerked his hands back, and Erik raised his palms before moving again, more slowly. Charles let his hands fall back down, and Erik took his hands in his own.

“I love you,” Erik told him, and Charles took a deep breath. “No, calm down, listen to me. I love you. We’re going to make this work.” Erik shut his eyes for a moment, seemingly bracing himself for something. “Go inside my head.”

Charles opened his mouth, then shut it, visibly confused. He frowned. “You made me _swear_ to never-”

“I changed my mind,” Erik insisted. “Do it. Go inside my head. I’m telling you that you can, you need to see what’s in there.”

Charles hesitated, then pulled one of his hands free from Erik’s, lifting it to press his fingertips to Erik’s temple. He kept his eyes locked with Erik’s as he dove into his head, and was suddenly assaulted with, _“My fault, all my fault, he’s paralyzed and it’s all my fault, shouldn’t’ve moved him, should’ve known, should’ve stayed, love him, should’ve stayed, Charles, listen to me, listen to my thoughts,”_ before he dug in deeper, past his surface thoughts to the undisguised truth underneath. There, Charles found truth to Erik’s apologies and to his declarations, a truth he had never anticipated finding. Erik reached out blindly, his grasp finding Charles’ jaw.

“I love you,” Erik repeated, and the sentiment echoed through their minds. Charles withdrew from the shared drift they had entered with a sharp breath, and Erik surged forward, crushing their mouths together. Charles reached up desperately, securing his hands on either side of Erik’s head.

“I don’t forgive you,” Charles informed him breathlessly when Erik pulled back for air. Erik pressed their foreheads together roughly.

“I don’t need you to,” Erik promised. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Charles replied, and Erik reached down and heaved Charles out of his wheelchair and into his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” Erik murmured against Charles’ mouth, moving to his neck. “Charles, I’m so sorry, I can’t-”

“Stop, stop,” Charles interrupted, dragging Erik’s face back up to his. He pointed to the headboard. “Let me down. Put me there.”

Erik did as instructed, moving Charles down to the mattress and allowing him to maneuver himself until he was propped up against the pillows and the headboard. He motioned to the empty spot beside him, and Erik moved, taking the spot. Charles reached out, pulling the blankets up around them before he slid down and tucked the blankets up around his shoulders. He motioned to Erik again.

“We’re going back to sleep,” Charles informed him, his voice soft. Erik shifted, fitting himself around Charles, tucking his legs around Charles’ and trying not to notice the lack of reaction he got. “We’ll talk in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay,” Erik accepted, the breath of his agreement warm on the back of Charles’ neck. He wrapped one arm around Charles, pulling him close, and Charles settled there, and did not have another nightmare that night. He woke up alone, though.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "But it all boils down to one quotable phrase: 'If you love something, give it away.'"
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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